


He's not a hero, he's a hunter

by ScilesMcCallinski



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hale-McCall Pack, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, Light Angst, M/M, McCall Pack, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Protective Scott, Stiles Stilinski is a Winchester, Stiles-centric, Tags May Change, The Hale Pack - Freeform, True Alpha Scott McCall, but - Freeform, i don't wanna give too much away, i think, it's likely okay??, most likely, nothing too bad, probably, this could pretty much go anywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 17:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13746210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScilesMcCallinski/pseuds/ScilesMcCallinski
Summary: Mieczyslaw "Stiles" Winchester, the younger brother of Sam and Dean  Winchester, two of the best hunters in the world. And so is he - or at least, he will be, with some training. And that's partly why he's so determined to do this case alone. To prove to his brothers that he is a good hunter. And so it's off to Beacon Hills he goes, to hunt down some Werewolves. Only... is it really going to be that easy?





	1. Chapter 1: Beacon Hills, Where Nothing Can Be Trusted

"Be careful, Mischief," Dean tells him again for what has to be the fifth time. "You know what those overgrown murderous dogs are like. They're... murderous." 

Stiles rolls his eyes at his big brother and that stupid nickname, glancing over at Sam as they both smile. "I will, I promise. Now shut up and let me leave, would ya?" He says as he swings his duffel bag over his shoulder and gestures at the door that Dean is currently blocking. 

Dean stays where he is, arms crossed over his chest. Sam looks at him and he rolls his eyes and huffs but steps to the side.

Stiles grins and heads for the door, but before he can leave, Sam pulls him into a hug, practically engulfing him with how much taller he is. Stiles laughs, muffled by Sam's shirt as he wraps his arms around him. 

"I'm gonna be fine, Sammy. You don't need to worry," he tries to assure him. 

Stiles had found a case in a small town called Beacon Hills, barely a few miles away from the motel they're currently staying in. He's been desperate for a case of his own, but every time he brings it up, Sam and Dean always insist that he isn't old enough to hunt on his own. They always just wave away his protests, especially when he points out how young the two of them were whenever they went out on hunts alone, their excuses being that they had each other. But this time, he finally managed to convince them that he can handle this on his own. After all, it's just a couple werewolves, nothing too big. 

Sam chuckles and pulls back, his hands still on Stiles' shoulders as he looks down at him with a smile. "If I didn't worry I wouldn't be a good big brother, now would I?" Stiles can't help but grin and roll his eyes once more - clearly something that runs in the family. "Just watch out for yourself. And remember to call us if you need anything, we're gonna be here for another week or two, depending on how bad this case gets."

Stiles nods and promises that he'll call them if things go wrong. He waves at his brothers as he leaves the motel, heading for the blue jeep that he's barely had for a few days. Sam and Dean insisted that he has to have something to drive if he's going to be on his own and Dean refused to give him the Impala because he is convinced Stiles will crash it or use it to pick up dates because, apparently, sixteen-year-olds can't control themselves. Not even while on a case.

Once inside, he leans back in his seat, relaxing as he turns on the radio. Eye of the Tiger immediately starts playing and he snorts, remembering that one time Dean had belted out the entire song while dancing around their motel room. He turns it up full blast, rolls the windows down and throws his duffel onto the back seat. 

He lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he looks around the Jeep, a weird sense of pride, washing over him as he realises this is actually it. He's actually about to go out on a case by himself. His eyes drift over to the motel room he had just left and a smile spreads across his lips as spots Sam and Dean standing at the door and watching him. 

He waves at them once more, laughing when Sam waves back then notices Dean isn't doing the same and elbows him in the side. Dean glares at him, clearly still unhappy about letting Stiles go, but he turns back to him and nods, giving a little wave. 

Finally, Stiles turns away from his brothers and starts up the engine, listening to the rattle that's a little worrying but not enough to stop him from going. He pulls out of the parking lot, glancing at the side-mirror one last time as he leaves his brothers behind. It does feel strange, knowing they're not going to be with him during this and he has to admit, it does make him a little sad. But he's been wanting this for years, and it's finally here, and he's _excited_. He just has to remember not to get himself killed or else Dean will bring him back just so _he_ can kill him. 

With that thought in mind, Stiles grins and continues down the road lined with shops and little houses, eventually surrounded on both sides by nothing but fields for miles, the odd farm or tiny village house popping up every so often.

It doesn't take long for him to spot a sign that lets him know he'll reach Beacon Hills in a couple more minutes and it's only then that his anxiety starts up. As nice as being out on a case alone is, it's still pretty terrifying without his brothers here to back him up, make sure he and smart mouth don't get himself killed. And it's not like he even came up with a plan, not really. He told Sam and Dean he knew what he was doing and how he was planning to hunt down the werewolves he's looking for but, in reality, he doesn't really have a clue. Guess he'll just have to do what he does best; make it up as he goes along. 

Stiles groans and hits his head on the steering wheel, trusting himself to be able to look away from the road for five seconds without crashing into something. He's totally gonna get himself killed, he just knows it. At least there's one upside: He gets to haunt the crap out of Sam and Dean and that'll be pretty awesome. Although, he would prefer he stayed alive and didn't die at the hands of a bunch of werewolves. Not exactly the way he wants to go.

A few more minutes fly past and he's entering Beacon Hills. He can't help but look around as he drives further into the little town, curious about the people who live here, what it's like when werewolves aren't killing people. The first thing he notices is a high school, people his age roaming around outside, laughing and living their mundane lives. He feels a twinge in his chest and he looks away, his eyes focusing on the road. That life isn't his, it never was and it never will be. That's just not how the Winchesters work. 

He's pulled from his thoughts abruptly, a loud screeching sound coming from the jeep. He's pretty sure it's not meant to be making that noise. He's also pretty sure there isn't supposed to be smoke coming from the engine. Definitely not right. 

Stiles quickly pulls the Jeep over to the side of the road and gets out. He groans and pulls his sleeve over his mouth, making sure not to inhale any of the smoke as he pops the hood up. He doesn't really have much experience with vehicles or fixing them; anytime something went wrong with the Impala, it was always Dean who fixed it. So, now he has absolutely no clue what he is doing. 

"Hey, you okay, dude?" A guy calls to him, walking over to him as he glances at the Jeep. "You need a hand?" 

Stiles eyes him cautiously, remembering that one of the rules Sam and Dean taught him was: Don't trust anyone. But he really could use some help and if this guy's offering, what harm can it really do?

"Uh, yeah, I'm not really good with-" he gestures to the still smoking engine with his right hand, the left coming up the rub at the back of his head nervously. "My brother usually handles this kind of stuff." 

The guy chuckles and nods understandingly. He takes a look at the engine, trying to figure out what the problem is. But he looks just as stumped as Stiles and he gets the feeling that this kid doesn't actually know a thing about mechanics. And he gets all the confirmation he needs when he turns back to him, a sheepish grin on his lips as he kinda shrugs. 

"I have no idea what's up with it," he says, still grinning. "But I can give you a ride if you want?"

Now, Stiles may seem like a complete idiot at times, but he's not that dumb. He knows that there is definitely no way he should accept this offer. But the longer he looks at this guy, the more interesting he seems. There's just something about his wide brown eyes that are oddly similar to Sammy's but a hell of a lot cuter of course, and his skin that seems just a little tanned but absolutely- 

And this is where Dean usually smacks him upside the head for getting distracted. But since he isn't here to do it, Stiles snaps himself out of it, only just noticing the way this guy is looking at him, with puppy-dog eyes and his head tilting to the side, waiting for him to answer. 

"I..." On one hand, saying yes would be stupid and irresponsible and could possibly, and most likely will, lead to his death. But on the other, he has no other way of finding a motel since there doesn't appear to be any nearby and his jeep has malfunctioned on him. "Honestly, that would be great. You sure you don't mind?"

The guy shakes his head, smiling brightly and Stiles just knows he's gonna get him in trouble. "I'm sure. So, where are you headed...?"

"Stiles," he replies as he heads around the side of the jeep and opens the back door to grab his duffel. "And you?"

"Oh, uh," the guy's eyes widen and seems a little flustered as if he hadn't been expecting Stiles to ask him his name. "McCall. I mean, Scott. Scott McCall."

Stiles grins and swings the bag over his shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Scott McCall."

Scott grins back before leading him over to a black Chevy Camaro and Stiles can't help but raise an eyebrow, whistling quietly. Dean would be mad if he didn't fully appreciate the beauty of this car, especially since it's a Chevy. Of course, nothing beats the Impala. 

"It's not mine," Scott speaks up. He must have noticed the look on Stiles' face. "It belongs to my friend, Derek." 

Stiles just nods, still impressed that he's allowed to drive it. Dean's only let him drive the Impala once, he accidentally backed into a bush and never again has he been trusted to drive it. 

They get in the car and Scott turns to Stiles as he starts up the engine. "So, where you headed?"

Stiles has to think about it for a second, realising he actually has no idea. "Uh, are there any motels around here? Or... just, a place I can stay a couple nights?" 

Scott's brows furrow in confusion. "Wait, you don't have anywhere to stay?" Before Stiles can even think of a response, he continues, "You can't stay in a motel. The ones around here are disgusting and I'm pretty sure someone's died in at least... all of them." 

Stiles raises his eyebrows, curious but also not really wanting him to explain any further, and he argues that he has to, whether someone's died in it or not, he needs some place to stay and if that means sleeping in some gross motel room, so be it. 

But Scott doesn't seem willing to let him, despite having only just met him. He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip as he glances out the windshield. His eyes widen and Stiles wonders if he saw something, tilting his head to look in the same direction to see what it could be. 

"You can stay with me," he offers, turning back to him. 

Of course, Stiles quickly shakes his head and shoots down his offer, knowing that he can't just agree to stay at some random person's place. If this is how Scott is with everyone, Stiles is actually a little worried for him because he is way too kind to people he doesn't even know. He's gonna end up getting himself into a really bad situation if he goes on like this.

"Dude, seriously," Scott presses on and Stiles has to refrain from groaning because the guy's just trying to be nice. "I'm not kidding about the motels around here, you do not want to stay in them. Most of them are definitely cursed. Just..." he pauses, trying to think of something else. He sighs and shakes his head. "Just stay at my place. I swear I'm not some murderous lunatic who's gonna steal your organs in your sleep. I just want to make sure you've got a place to stay."

Stiles snorts, amused by Scott's attempt to make him trust him. And, honestly? It kinda worked. And he knows that when Sam and Dean find out they are going to give him one hell of a lecture, but they're not here right now. So, he gives in and accepts Scott's offer and Scott grins like Stiles just gave him the best pie in the world. Stiles was joking at first, but now he's definitely sure of it. Scott McCall is going to get him into a lot of trouble. More than he can imagine.

\--------------------------------- 

It doesn't take long for them to reach Scott's house, and Stiles has to say, it looks _nice._ In fact, it looks pretty amazing. Then again, Stiles has never actually lived in a house, just moving from one motel to the next, sometimes staying in a decent-ish hotel if they can afford it. So, this house? It's pretty damn impressive. 

Scott unlocks the front door and leads him inside, quickly pointing out the living room and the kitchen before heading upstairs and letting him see the guest room. Again, Stiles is pretty impressed. The room is a lot bigger than he was expecting, and it's just... cozy.

It must show on his face that he's surprised because Scott's brows draw together as he watches him, discreetly taking in his appearance and probably trying to figure out where he came from and what he could be doing here. Stiles can't help but smirk a little as he faces him, catching Scott off-guard and making his eyes widen as he pretends he basically wasn't just checking him out. Which he totally was, of course. 

"Your house is great," Stiles comments, gesturing vaguely to the room as he leans against the doorframe. "Sorry if I seemed rude before, I'm just not used to places so... nice."

Scott, now a little more composed and a lot less flustered, raises an eyebrow at him, his curiosity clearly increasing more and more. But he doesn't say anything about it, doesn't ask any personal questions or anything. And once again, Stiles finds himself questioning why this guy is being so nice and what it is about him that seems to be drawing him further in. 

"Well, feel free to make yourself at home," Scott says, a small, friendly smile on his lips as he moves to the stairs. "My mom won't be back until like three am because of work and I have to go meet up with some of my friends. Do you wanna come with me or...?"

Stiles shakes his head, motioning for Scott to go ahead. "Nah, I've got some work to do. But thanks. Seriously." 

Scott shrugs. "If you're sure. I'll be back in like an hour or two," he says before waving goodbye and leaving, the front door closing behind him. 

Stiles really can't help but wonder how Scott is so trusting. He literally just left a stranger alone in his home. If Stiles was some robber or a murder or something equally as bad, Scott would have screwed up big time. How can his mom be okay with this? 

He sighs and heads into the guest room, dumping his duffel on the bed. He unzips it, pulls out the files he already managed to dig up and print out for this case and sits down on the bed, flipping through them. Since he's already been over the basics a few times, he pretty much knows what he's looking for. Werewolves. But the problem is: How does he find them? He knows he's gonna need to try and get some more information if he wants to get any further with this, but usually, he's with Sam and Dean whenever they go to talk to the Sheriff. No one will believe that Stiles is an FBI agent, that's for sure. So how the hell is he going to work this? 

He groans and falls backward, his head barely missing the wall as he closes his eyes. This is already harder than he was expecting it to be, and he hasn't even been here for a day. Maybe Scott'll know something about all of the "animal attacks" going on. 

He scoffs and throws his arm over his eyes. Yeah, right. Scott's just a sweet guy who's a little too trusting for his own good. Stiles doubts he even has any idea what's going on in this town, probably too focused on normal things like his friends and homework and... other things that teenagers care and worry about. Things that Stiles will never get the chance to even think about. Not that he wants to. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, lifting his arm and opening his eyes. He clicks on Sam's contact and holds the phone to his ear while it rings, silently begging him to pick up. Not just because he needs some advice on what to do, but because he already feels a little homesick. Which is kind of ironic since they don't even have a home. 

"What's up, Stiles? You okay?" Sam asks, a hint of panic in his voice. 

Stiles can't help but smile, mostly because it's good to hear his big brother's voice. "I'm okay, Sammy," he assures him. "I'm just..." 

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. Sam already knows. He and Dean can always tell what he's thinking just by his voice. It's actually a little scary at times. 

"You know you can come back, right? You don't need to do this case alone. If you come back, we can finish the case up here and then we can all head there and figure out whatever's happening. You don't have to prove anything to us, Stiles." 

And Stiles wants to believe that. But he also knows that he _does_ have something to prove to them. He has to - No, wants to - prove that he is a good hunter, that he can do things alone, that he doesn't always need his big brothers to protect him from the big, bad world and all the things that lurk in the shadows. 

"It's okay, I can handle it. I just need some help on getting some more info, I can't exactly just talk to the Sheriff."

Sam laughs and it's slightly distorted and crackly through the phone. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Okay, well, I'll hack into their files, see what else I can find for you." 

Stiles thanks him and stays on the call, enjoying talking to Sam while he tries to dig up everything he can find. And despite being a hunter - well, a hunter in training as Dean puts it -  he fails to notice that he isn't the only one in the house, doesn't realise that a few minutes after Scott left, he had come back in, looking for his phone only to overhear Stiles' phone call and realise just how badly he screwed up. Because Scott McCall is a werewolf and it's possible he just invited a hunter to stay in his home. 


	2. Chapter 2: Things Have Already Gone Wrong

Stiles groans loudly, wishing Dean would just shut up already. He somehow managed to hijack his call with Sam, probably by stealing the phone from him, and he hasn't stopped asking if he's okay and if he needs help and if he remembered to take his Adderall with him. No matter how many times Stiles repeats the words, "I'm fine, Dean, I've got it covered, I'll be back soon, yes, I brought it," he still won't stop worrying. He even offered to leave the case him and Sam are working on just to come to Beacon Hills and help him out. It's a little frustrating that he won't just listen. 

There's a rustling noise on the other end and Stiles pulls the phone away from his ear, looking at it strangely. He hears Dean complain while Sam laughs and Stiles guesses Sam managed to take the phone back, probably resulting in Dean going into a huff. 

"Sorry, he wouldn't shut up," Sam says, and Stiles can hear the grin on his face. "I'm sending everything I could find to you now."

"Thanks, Sammy," Stiles says, pulling his laptop closer as he clicks on his emails. Once he finds the right one, he thanks Sam again, getting ready to hang up the call. 

Before he can though, Sam stops him. "One more thing. Remember to be careful, alright? I know Dean's a pain in the ass but he really is just looking out for you. And so am I."

Stiles' lips quirk upwards and he nods, forgetting Sam can't see him. He coughs and says, "Yeah, I get it. I promise I'm being careful. I'll make it back to you in one piece, I swear."

Sam chuckles but Stiles can hear the sadness in it because he's come so close to losing both of his brothers too many times, watched them get hurt or find them a beaten and bloody mess because he wasn't there in time and Stiles knows he can't do it again. He can't find out that Stiles got hurt while on his first case alone. Which is why he's trying so hard to prove that he can do this, prove to Sam that he doesn't need to worry as much as he does.

"I love you, Sammy," Stiles says, his voice shaking a little because he's just as worried as they are. Not for himself, but for them. They don't realise it but he worries about them just as much as they do him, every day he's afraid that he's going to wake up to find out his brothers are both dead, killed by some monster. "And tell De I love him. I'll come back soon, I promise. Just a couple days, Sammy."

Sam tells him he loves him too and Dean momentarily steals the phone again. He goes on to say that he better hurry his ass back there or else he's coming looking for him and he loves him too so if anything happens to him he's gonna make sure every werewolf in Beacon Hills pays for it. After that, they end the call, all of them feeling a weird emptiness in their stomach. 

Stiles sighs and drops his phone next to him, turning his attention to his laptop and all of the files Sam had managed to find for him. He skims over the basics, knowing he'll have more time to fully go over them later. A few potentially useful names pop up, along with some information on them so that Stiles isn't completely clueless. Once he thinks he knows enough about the situation, he moves the laptop off his lap and sits it on the bed, closing the lid down.

He pulls a medium-sized dagger out of his bag and runs his finger along the engravings on either side of the blade. It was given to him on his fourteenth birthday, a present from Castiel. He remembers being surprised when Cas handed it to him with a smile, shocked that he had even gotten him anything since he never really paid much attention to him. When he had taken it, Cas explained that the dagger is made of silver and that the engravings are Enochian symbols and as long as he has the blade with him, no angels can find him. It was basically the equivalent to Sam and Dean's tattoos since Stiles was too young to get one at the time, the dagger was the next best thing. Not to mention it can also kill most supernatural creatures. And ever since, he's cherished it like Dean cherishes Baby. That's how special it is to him.

A smile spreads across his lips at the memory, flipping the blade in his hand and catching it easily by the handle. He'll admit, he practised doing that a lot and most of the time, it ended with Sam, Dean or Cas having to bandage up his hand and lecturing him about being more careful. He-

Stiles' head whips around to face the door, dagger in hand as he moves slowly. He knows he may not have the sharpest hearing, but he definitely heard the floorboards creak, accompanied by quiet footsteps. Not even taking into consideration that it might just be Scott, Stiles continues forward and presses his back against the wall, readying himself to attack. And when the guy walks into the room, eyes immediately darting to him, Stiles doesn't hesitate. Something he will definitely regret later.

He aims for the neck, his movements quick and sharp from his hunter training. But the guy's reflexes are quicker, hand reaching out and grabbing hold of the blade. He doesn't even look fazed by the blood slowly dripping from his palm, in fact, he squeezes the blade tighter and grabs Stiles' wrist with the other, twisting it until Stiles is forced to let go of the dagger. He clenches his jaw through the pain and moves to pull a concealed knife out of the inside of his jacket. 

But he barely gets the chance to even breathe before the guy has him completely against the wall, one hand clenching a handful of his shirt and the other on the wall beside his head, stopping him from moving.

Stiles looks him directly in the eyes, not even flinching when bright red eyes stare back at him, or even when his lips pull back into a snarl, baring his sharp teeth that could rip him apart in a second. No, Stiles knows this situation very well. This isn't exactly his first encounter with a werewolf. Although he'll admit, this one does look a little... different. 

But different or not, he's still a werewolf. And all werewolves have a certain weakness. 

"Why are you here?" The wolf growls, his hand tightening in Stiles' shirt. 

Knowing he needs to keep him talking, Stiles replies, "Oh, it's a boring story really. New in town, jeep breaks down, this really sweet and handsome as hell guy-" The wolf growls again, his claws digging into Stiles' chest a little, "-offers me a place to stay, I thought why the hell not and now I'm here. As I said, boring." 

The guy growls again while Stiles slowly inches his hand into his pocket, curling his fingers around the small bag of wolfsbane he put there just in case. There's a sharp pain in the back of his head as the guy slams him against the wall, somehow managing to get even closer to him. 

"Y'know, it's a real shame that you're a werewolf," Stiles says, gripping the bag of wolfsbane tightly in his hand as he slips the piece of string tying it together between two fingers. "Because you are hot as hell and if the reason you weren't pinning me against a wall was because you want to tear my throat out, I would be extremely turned on." 

The guy's eyebrows draw together and Stiles takes his momentary confusion as an opportunity, finally undoing the knot around the bag. He quickly brings his hand up, blowing the wolfsbane into his face and watching him growl as it stings his eyes. 

Stiles isn't going to just wait for him to recover and kill him, and so he lunges for his dagger, now on the floor as Derek dropped it when he got hit with the wolfsbane. Unfortunately, it would be just his luck that Scott would come back at that exact moment. 

Stiles groans, now having to protect Scott as well as kill this werewolf. He picks the dagger up and spins around, eyes on the wolf kneeling on the floor with his eyes squeezed shut to stop any more of the powder getting in. He pulls his hand back, aiming to stab the thing in the chest and get this over with as quickly as possible. 

But then there's a hand gripping his wrist, stopping him from moving it. His eyes snap to Scott, staring at him with a blank and somewhat annoyed look on his face. He internally groans, knowing bad this situation looks. 

"This is going to make sense to you, but I need you to let me go. That guy?" Stiles gestures to him. "He's a werewolf. A monster. And if you don't let me kill him, he's gonna kill the both of us." Stiles tries tugging his arm away, thinking that he's convinced Scott. 

But Scott's still just staring at him, his grip tightening. And then his eyes drift down to the man and he sighs. Stiles' heart skips a beat because why is Scott looking at this guy like he knows who he is? And why doesn't he seem at all bothered by his glowing eyes, fangs, and claws? That's normally something that sends people running. 

But not Scott. Instead, he forces Stiles to drop the dagger, squeezing his wrist slightly. Once it's on the ground, he steps on it, making sure Stiles can't pick it back up without having to try and make him move. He sighs again, finally letting go of Stiles' wrist as he rubs his forehead, seeming frustrated. 

"Seriously, Derek?" he asks, and the guy growls quietly. Scott rolls his eyes and bends down, helping him to his feet. "I thought we talked about this? We don't just attack people, not even hunters."

Stiles' heartbeat suddenly spikes because Scott just said _we_ while talking to a _werewolf_ and _hunters_ slipped out of his mouth so easily, so casually. And when he came into the room just a few minutes ago, he didn't even seem fazed by the scene in front of him, maybe a little surprised at first but it barely lasted for a few seconds.

Scott turns to face Stiles and he must see the confusion and slight panic in his eyes because he tries to step closer, only for Stiles to take a step back. He puts his hands up in front of him, trying to let Stiles know that he isn't going to hurt him. But there's no chance in hell Stiles is falling for that - the guy's a werewolf!

Scott takes a cautious step forward and Stiles doesn't move back this time but his hand twitches, hovering over the smaller but still silver blade in his pocket. He shakes his head a little, his eyes flickering bright red as he says, "Let me explain."


	3. Chapter 3: He Lied

Stiles takes another step back, eyes darting to his duffel still lying on the bed and unzipped. There's no clear path to it, no way for him to just grab it and run without having to get through not only one, but two werewolves. But he can't just leave it; that's one rule that Sam and Dean always made sure he knew, never leave anything behind. 

Deciding he needs to find a way to grab his bag, preferably without getting into a fight, Stiles looks at Scott. His eyes are hard and cold and he's trying not to let the hurt show because he had really believed that this guy was actually just being friendly and might have actually wanted to be nice. Obviously he should have known better.

As if able to read his thoughts, Scott shakes his head, hands still held up in front of him. "Stiles, I didn't know you were a hunter. This... This wasn't a trap, I swear. I didn't mean f-"

"Oh yeah?" Stiles cuts him off without even thinking, his anger seeping into his voice. "Then, uh, why'd your mutt over there attack me?" The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, too used to having Sam and Dean here to fix the damage caused by him and his smart mouth. But he's all alone this time, which means he has no back up when Derek growls and goes to move toward him. 

"Derek," Scott warns him, turning his head to look at him. "We're not hurting him." 

For some reason, Scott's words are enough to make Derek back off, still in wolf-mode or whatever but he steps back. 

Stiles raises an eyebrow, cocking his head as he glances from Scott to Derek. "Oh, I get it." His lips twist up into a cocky smirk and he already knows that whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to get him into a lot of trouble. "That's why you tried to tear me apart and slammed me against a wall." He gestures at Scott but keeps his eyes trained on Derek as he says, "It's because I called him handsome as hell, wasn't it?"

Derek rolls his eyes and looks mildly disgusted, scoffing as he replies, "Of course not. You're a hunter, I don't need another reason." 

"Ouch," Stiles clicks his tongue, his hand on his chest as he shakes his head, "You don't think Scotty's good-looking? And here I was thinking we were gonna have something to bond over. Then again, you mutts don't like talking, do you? Nah, you prefer to just get straight to the killing part. You enjoy th-"

"Stop," Scott intervenes with a firm tone. He flicks his eyes between the two of them as he says, "Both of you. This isn't going to get us anywhere." 

He must notice Stiles' eyes still darting to his duffel bag every few seconds because he sighs and moves past Derek to pick it up. For a second, Stiles isn't sure what he's gonna do with it, especially since he left it unzipped which means Scott can probably see what's in it. And let's just say, it will not look good on him if Scott spots the dozens of werewolf-killing weapons. Not that he cares, of course. Scott's a werewolf, it doesn't matter what he thinks of Stiles. 

Scott just walks back over and offers the bag to him, a dejected look in his eyes as he waits for him to take it. Stiles doesn't know that is or why Scott's still being nice to him, even now that he knows his secret. But he doesn't hesitate to take the bag, snatching it away before Scott can change his mind. 

Just one glance at Derek tells Stiles that he's not exactly happy about this, but for some reason, he doesn't seem to want to argue with Scott. Which is surprising and a little confusing but definitely something Stiles might be able to use to his advantage. 

"Look, I get it," Scott says, pulling Stiles from his thoughts. "You think that just because I'm a werewolf, that automatically makes me some lunatic who goes around killing people for the fun of it. Am I right?" When Stiles just stays silent, eyeing him suspiciously, Scott bites his lower lip and nods. "Thought so. But we're not all like that - I mean, yeah, there are some werewolves that do that. I can even name a few." He sends a pointed look at Derek, who looks somewhat insulted. "But I promise you, we're not like that." 

Stiles doesn't say anything. He has the chance to leave, to run like hell and call Sam and Dean to tell them he needs help. But he doesn't, he stays where he is, looking at Scott and trying to figure out what reason he would have to lie to him. The guy doesn't seem like he has one murderous bone in his body, in fact, he looks more like an innocent puppy than a psychotic wolf-man. But Stiles knows that looks can be deceiving and there's no way in hell he's taking any chances here, not when people are dying. 

"Give me one good reason I should believe you," Stiles says, tilting his head up a little as his hand twitches toward the knife hidden in his jacket. 

"How about because that little blade of yours isn't gonna do much good against us," Derek answers for Scott, jerking his head in the direction of Stiles' hand. 

He freezes and curses himself for not being more discreet. Subtlety never was his strong suit. His mind backtracks slightly and he narrows his eyes at Derek. "Oh yeah? I'm willing to bet it will, after all, it is made of silver and-" 

Before he finishes his sentence, there's a loud buzzing noise that startles them all. And, of course, it just had to be his phone - still on the bed.

He meet's Scott's eyes for a second, wondering if he should just take the risk and grab it. But then Scott picks his phone up and throws it over to him with a half-smile, apparently oblivious to the glare Derek shoots him. 

Stiles barely has to look at the number to know it's Sam that's calling him. He quickly answers it, knowing that if he doesn't, he and Dean will start suspecting the worst. 

"Hey, Mischief, it's me," Dean's voice comes through the phone, urgent and a little panicked, and Stiles doesn't get the chance to wonder why he's calling him from Sam's phone. "Look, kiddo, I know this is gonna sound real bad, but I need you to stay calm, got it?" 

Stiles' heart rate immediately spikes, despite Dean telling him not panic, and when he glances at Scott and Derek it's obvious that they can hear everything. "Dean, what is it? Where's Sam?" 

There's a pause on the other end and Stiles' anxiety kicks in, his head spinning a little as he waits for a reply. "He's in trouble. I - We were tracking down those vamps and something happened. They weren't alone. It doesn't make any sense but... they were working with something else. I don't know what but whatever it was, they..." He falters and Stiles' breath catches in his throat. "Sammy's hurt real bad. You need to come back, Stiles." 

"Tell me he's gonna be okay," Stiles says, his voice cracking slightly. "Dean, come on. He's been through worse, alright? He's gonna be fine. And I... I-" His eyes dart to Scott and Derek, both just watching him. He turns away from them once more, his voice low as he says, "I'm coming back. Okay, I'll be there. I promise you."

They both hang up the call and Stiles doesn't move for a second, barely remembers how to breathe. He knew something like this would happen, and now it has and he doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do. 

Without thinking, Stiles groans and flings his phone away from him, hearing it bounce off the wall and smash as he rubs his hand across his face. That's definitely something he's going to regret later when he needs to call someone, but for right now, he just doesn't care. 

"Dude, are you alright?" Scott asks him. 

Stiles hates how genuinely worried he sounds. He barely spares either of them a glance as he grips the handle of his duffel with white knuckles and turns on his heel, quickly leaving the room and then the house. It doesn't matter that he now knows who the werewolves he's looking for are, it doesn't matter that he still has a case to finish. His brothers are his priority, nothing else. 

As soon as he's outside he begins to realise that he doesn't have any way of getting back to the motel. The jeep broke down and Scott drove him here. Once again, Stiles groans but thankfully doesn't throw anything this time. He can hear footsteps approaching him from behind but he doesn't bother turning around, and instead, he continues walking down the road, determined to get back to his brothers somehow. 

"Stiles, let me help," Scott says, already caught up with him. Stiles curses werewolves and their damn super speed. "There's no way you can walk back to where ever it is you're going, let me drive you there." 

He would be lying if he said he wasn't seriously considering taking Scott up on his offer once again, but this time it's to get back to Sam. And that's about all the motivation he needs to quickly accept and let Scott turn him around and head back to his - Derek's - car.

No one needs to tell Stiles that this is a bad idea and he really shouldn't be getting in a car with a werewolf; he already knows that. But the only thing running through his mind right now is Sam, and whether he's okay and how Dean's handling it all. Taking a ride from a friendly-looking werewolf? Not exactly his biggest problem right now. 

Before they can leave, Derek comes out of Scott's house and the two of them have an argument about whether they should help Stiles. Derek insists that they shouldn't because he's a hunter and it doesn't matter that his brother's in trouble, he's still dangerous. Meanwhile, Scott defends Stiles by saying he hasn't tried to hurt them, and even if he had, that's no excuse not to help him when he's obviously so worried about his brother. 

Eventually, Scott wins the argument and Derek huffs but gets in the passenger side of the car, refusing to let Scott go anywhere alone with Stiles. Not that Stiles is complaining, he just wants the two of them to hurry up so he can get back to Sam and Dean. 

After about half an hour of driving, Derek sulking and Stiles giving Scott directions, they end up at the motel that Stiles had left barely a few hours ago. He doesn't waste any time, throwing the car door open and hurrying toward the room without so much as a thank you or a goodbye to Scott. 

When he reaches the room, he doesn't even bother knocking, just pushes the door open and looks around. His eyes immediately land on Dean, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. 

"Where's Sammy?" Stiles asks, eyes darting wildly around the room for their brother. Dean doesn't reply and Stiles stops, his body tensing as he looks at him. "Dean, where's Sam?" 

Dean sighs as he stands up and Stiles takes a step back. Something's off, this isn't right. 

"I know you're gonna be mad at me," Dean starts, stepping closer, his hands in front of him as he talks. "But I need you to understand that I did this for you." 

Stiles' stomach twists and he takes another step back. "What's going on, Dean?" The panic is clear in his voice.

Dean sighs again and stops moving, standing a few feet away from him. "You weren't gonna survive workin' that case alone. I didn't know how else to get you back here." 

Stiles' chest tightens and he freezes. "What are you talking about?" 

Before Dean gets the chance to answer, there's a familiar hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Hey, buddy, back so soon?" Sam's voice is teasing and light, squeezing his little brother's shoulder gently. 

Stiles immediately whips around, eyes wide as he pulls Sam into a hug. He came here thinking he was going to lose him. Sam chuckles but it turns confused as he hugs Stiles back, feeling his little brother shaking in his arms. 

"Hey, Stiles, what is it?" He asks. He must look over at Dean as Stiles hears a sigh. 

"He was gonna get himself killed, Sam," Dean tries to explain, using the excuse he has just used on Stiles. "He isn't ready to be out on a case alone. This was the only way to get him back here." 

Stiles pulls away, shaking his head as he turns back to face Dean. "Seriously? You wanted me to come back so that I wouldn't get hurt, and the best way you could think of was by telling me that _Sammy_ got hurt?" He scoffs, his eyes stinging with tears and anger. "You have some seriously messed up logic, Dean." 

Sam's eyebrows shoot up as he takes a step forward, staring at Dean incredulously. "You did what?" 

Dean rolls his eyes, clearly frustrated that neither of them are understanding why he did what he did. He doesn't get a chance to defend himself or repeat his excuse again as a voice speaks up from behind Sam and Stiles. 

"Hey, you okay, dude?" 

Stiles internally curses, his eyes closing for a brief second. He thought Scott had left when he got out of the car, he wasn't expecting him to follow him here. All three of them face him, Sam and Dean both caught off-guard and a little confused while also on edge. Stiles, however, rubs his forehead, wondering how he can possibly explain this to Sam and Dean. 

"Who the hell are you?" Sam asks him, going into his usual threatening mode whenever someone who isn't Stiles or Dean sneaks up on him. 

Scott's wide eyes dart from Sam to Stiles, silently asking if he should just leave. However, for some reason that is unknown to all of them, Stiles doesn't nod. He doesn't tell him to go. Instead, he glances back at Dean, the anger from before flaring back up and he makes a decision. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Stiles says to Scott, answering his question from before. "Is there any chance I could get a ride back?" He asks him, ignoring Dean, who throws his hands up in frustration and stares at Stiles like he's gone insane. 

Scott seems surprised by the question but he nods, a glimpse of that smile that had won Stiles over the first time around appearing on his lips. "Yeah, of course. Do you want me to...?" He gestures to the direction he came from and Stiles hesitates. 

He shakes his head, "No, it's fine." He turns back to Sam, the relief washing over him all over again that Sam isn't hurt. He pulls him into another hug before flashing him a lopsided grin and adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. "I'll be back soon, Sammy." 

Sam smiles and nods in understanding, ruffling Stiles' hair a little. "Yeah, see you soon, Mischief. Take care of yourself, alright?" 

Stiles nods and doesn't even bother to say goodbye to Dean as he turns back to Scott. Just before they leave, Stiles catches the look on Sam's face as he turns on Dean, the disbelief and anger that Dean would do something so thoughtless just because he doesn't trust Stiles. And then Stiles is walking with Scott to the car park, hearing the motel room door slam shut behind them. 

They walk in silence as they get closer to the car, Stiles too busy trying not to focus on how much his brother just betrayed him, how he used one of his worst fears against him just to try and get him to come back. Meanwhile, Scott keeps glancing at Stiles, still able to hear the conversation - or argument, considering the raised voices  - going on back in the motel. It's only when Stiles feels Scott's gaze linger on him for longer than usual that he sighs and looks up at him. 

"What is it?" He asks bluntly. 

Scott's eyes widen a little and Stiles wishes he didn't find that as adorable as he does. The guy is still a werewolf. Admittedly, a helpful and apparently very caring one who even drove him here to get to his brother because he thought he was hurt. But still a werewolf. 

Stiles forces himself to tune out of his thoughts just in time to hear Scott say, "It's just... I can't believe your brother put you through that. You seem really close to your brothers." 

"Yeah," Stiles shakes his head slightly, still trying to wrap his own mind around how Dean could do that to him. He pretends it doesn't bother him, "Yeah, we're really close. Have been forever." 

Scott nods and then they're at the car and Stiles can stop forcing himself to speak without his voice breaking. It seems so ridiculous to him that he's so affected by this, but Dean hurt him. He pretended Sam was hurt, that he might not make it. How could he do that to him? If it was Dean in this situation, he would be furious that someone had done something like this, had even tried to manipulate him like this. So why can't Stiles be hurt? 

He just sits in the passenger seat of the car, looking out the window as Scott drives them back to Beacon Hills. Derek only asked a few questions, all directed at Scott and then dropped the entire subject when he realised that he wasn't going to get anywhere as Scott was more worried about Stiles than answering any questions. 

Stiles can feel his eyes on him every so often, not enough to get them into a car accident but definitely enough for Stiles to let his mind wander back to what he's going to do when they get to Beacon Hills. He's supposed to kill Scott and Derek. The entire pack that's behind the animal attacks. 

Even though Derek is a little intimidating and has a slight murderous look in his eyes, he doesn't seem like a guy that's killed anyone. And Scott. Oh god, there is absolutely no way that guy has killed anyone. And that's not just Stiles being naive or letting any feelings he may have for Scott cloud his judgement, that's genuinely what he's sure of. He's met murderers, he's come face to face with werewolves who have actually killed people. That's not these guys. 

Maybe Stiles can trust them. Scott doesn't seem to have any ulterior motives for befriending Stiles and maybe he can help him with this case. It's definitely not something Dean would agree with. Which is part of the reason why Stiles decides he's going to give these werewolves a chance, see if maybe there are some good ones in the world.


End file.
